Angel's Duty by Aimee Robinson

Author:Aimee Robinson [Robinson, Aimee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AMR Publishing LLC

Chapter 17

A deafening roar clapped back against the crackling magic of the portal, then silence. Astringent fumes tickled Tungsten’s nose. His neck, slick with sweat, twitched beneath his blood-stained windbreaker—and the collar. Once the magic of the portal faded, humidity swelled around him. Dank, warm air mixed with chemicals of some sort stung his eyes, but he forced them open, nonetheless.

No, the collar forced them open.

He gritted his teeth, fighting against the urge to rip at the horrid thing, and glanced behind at Tammy. They’d kept her strategically close, but just out of reach, like a diver in a shark cage. Yet he could feel her and sense her nearness at his back, and it was enough. It would have to be enough until he could free them both.

Tung returned his gaze forward, never looking at the six mystics who stood around them, hands glowing at the ready with dark magic. His metal urged to break free, cried out within his blood to burst through his skin and lay waste to every evil within a thousand miles, but he tamped it back down again. Even before the charmers descended upon them, Tammy’s outdoor excursion had made him uneasy for another reason entirely, a reason he hadn’t shared with her.

Tung fisted his hand, testing the strength of his power, then let his fingers fall open. His angelic fire hadn’t recharged through the night. Though his cottage bordered a forest rich in granite and mineral deposits flecked with precious bits of metal, his brief exposure hadn’t been enough. And with Tammy wrapped protectively in his arms through the night, he hadn’t rested fully, hadn’t allowed the connection of the earth to seep into the bones of his power stores and reenergize his fire.

He must conserve his power until the time allowed for its greatest impact.

Patience. You must get her through this.

“Well, that’s not the mouse I had intended to catch.”

Tung looked up, the collar demanding he shift his gaze toward the speaker. Around them, aquamarine tiles flooded the floor, while glossy navy-blue tiles snaked a rigid rectangular perimeter around the frame of an indoor swimming pool. Stadium seating grew up and outward around the innocent still water, calling to mind images of a gladiator’s arena. Unassuming white diving blocks dotted one end of the pool, like soldiers at the ready. Behind them sat an unimposing long gray table, much like where one would see a handful of judges sit for a swimming competition. Yet there were no judges, no swimmers. Only the dank staleness of long-still water in an unused swimming facility shuttered for the winter months, likely due to cost and lack of patrons who favored skiing and other snow sports that time of year.

The electricity was turned on, however, with the barest of lights crackling and humming along the perimeter. While sunlight destroyed charmers, electric lights had no effect on them but were hardly needed given the demons’ superb night vision. So, why bother turning them on at all, unless .

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